


Bad Moon Rising

by ScarTheArmada



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, government sanctioned sexual slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarTheArmada/pseuds/ScarTheArmada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days of old, Privates had merely been lower ranking soldiers. The pawns in a very real game of capture the king. They were disposable. So, when the apocalypse hit planet Lauxes, and nearly everyone had lost their respective kings, there was an influx of new soldiers on both sides to protect the kings that remained. The soldiers with better CV’s were given the higher ranks while those with nothing to offer were given the title of Private, and with the title came a new job description. Privates existed for the sole purpose of keeping up morale. They were the sex workers of the military world. Which was fine for the volunteers that had signed up for it. They entered into the contract knowing that it was a possibility, but Stilinski hadn’t signed up for this. He’d been drafted. And he’d fought it all from the very start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help Me Close My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> TW: There is no actual rape yet, and there might never be but there is the threat of it. It's like a constant threat for Stiles. He is tied up when the the fic begins and he doesn't want to be, if this could be a problem then you might need to skip this fic.  
> I'll add tags as they come up in the fic. 
> 
> A/N: I have no idea how quickly I will be able to update this but I'll do my best to be quick. (My best is not always very good.) :( A vague disclaimer is no one's friend.

Master Sargent Harris looked on with appreciation as Private Stilinski wiggled in his bonds. Harris had woven the ropes around the boy’s ankles and then looped it around his wrists so that he was stuck in a position that had his face pressed into Harris’ cot while his delicious backside was presented. His feet were still planted on the floor. He’d refused to lie on Harris’ bed, still fighting his position in Omega Company. And Harris was looking forward to breaking him.

In the days of old, Privates had merely been lower ranking soldiers. The pawns in a very real game of capture the king. They were disposable. So, when the apocalypse hit planet Lauxes, and nearly everyone had lost their respective kings, there was an influx of new soldiers on both sides to protect the kings that remained. The soldiers with better CV’s were given the higher ranks while those with nothing to offer were given the title of Private, and with the title came a new job description. Privates existed for the sole purpose of keeping up morale. They were the sex workers of the military world. Which was fine for the volunteers that had signed up for it. They entered into the contract knowing that it was a possibility, but Stilinski hadn’t signed up for this. He’d been drafted. And he’d fought it all from the very start.

Stilinski’s refusal to do anything that was ordered of him made him both the bane of Harris’ existence and the older man’s favorite mistake. Because he did enjoy breaking a wild stallion.  And Stilinski fit the description to a T.

Harris was just unfastening his pants when a head stuck itself into his tent.

“Sorry to intrude on your downtime, Master Sargent. But the Captain is here with a guest.”

Before Harris even had time to acknowledge them, Captain Deaton was entering the tent with a young Commander in tow and he was being forced to salute with his flies undone.

“Captain, Commander,” Harris greeted, none too happy and doing his level best not to show it.

The Captain saluted back, the Commander didn’t but his uniform was strange so Harris assumed he was an offworlder.

“At ease, Master Sargent,” Captain Deaton said before his eyes strayed back to Stilinski over Harris’ shoulder.

The private must have felt eyes on him.

“I apologize for not saluting, Captain, but I’m a little tied up at the moment,” Stilinski quipped.

Even in the worst circumstances, Stilinski made jokes. Harris was going to teach him the correct use of that mouth once the Captain was gone.

“Who’s this?” Deaton asked of Harris with a raised brow.

Harris’ first instinct was to bristle and defend himself but he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Not in the eyes of their new General, anyway. Harris knew that Deaton had never approved of the new order. Well, he’d just have to get over it.

“ _Private_ Stilinski,” Harris answered putting extra emphasis on the ‘private’ because it justified him having the boy any way that he wanted him.

“I see,” Deaton uttered, his disapproval clear in both his tone and his eyes.

“To what do I owe the honor,” Harris questioned, eyes moving from the naked boy at his bed to their newcomer.

“Ah, yes,” Deaton remembered himself, placing a hand on the Commander’s shoulder. “This is Commander Hale. He’s a representative from Planet Beacon, here for the peace talks. You are to give him anything he wants during his stay.”

“Yes sir,” Harris answered. He hated these peace talks with a passion but he would do his job.

Commander Hale simply stood there, his eyes on Harris’ boy. Harris already didn’t like the man.

“Well, I’ll have someone show you to your tent and then, if you’d like, you may pick a Private as a companion during your stay…”

Harris barely had the words out of his mouth before the Commander was stepping forward and laying hands on _his_ boy.

“Can I have _him_?”

“Well, I…”

“Harris,” Deaton interrupted with a smug grin. “ _Anything_ he wants.”

“Of course,” Harris conceded grudgingly.

The Commander didn’t waste a second before he was lifting Stilinski like he was nothing, wrapping _Harris’_ blanket around him, and looking at Harris expectantly while Stilinski sputtered in his arms.

“Well?” The Commander prodded.

Harris called for Private Greenberg and had him show the Commander to his tent while Harris picked a new Private to take his frustrations out on.

~@~

 

“What’s your name?” The Commander asked as he set the naked boy down gently on his cot, unwrapped him from Harris’ blanket, and began untying the ropes from the boy’s wrists.

“Stilinski,” the boy answered, eyes shining with both confusion and suspicion at the Commander’s actions.

“No, I mean your first name,” Commander Hale corrected, swiftly moving on to the boy’s ankles as the ropes fell from his hands.

“Stiles,” the boy answered.

The Commander raised a brow at the name, like he didn’t believe that Stiles was telling him the truth, but didn’t push it. And he wasn’t far off, but Stiles didn’t even tell his closest friends his real name, let alone some outlander stranger.

“I’m Derek,” the Commander offered as he finished with the last knot on the rope and pulled it away from Stiles’ delicate flesh. He, then, rose and put it away before starting to make a pallet on the floor with Harris’ blanket. “You can take the bed.”

“What?” Stiles was very confused. “You don’t want to…”

“I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want,” Derek offered as he settled into his spot on the ground fully clothed. He’d seen too many outlanders be ambushed under the cover of darkness to let himself fully relax in a new setting.

“But you…”

“You didn’t want him touching you. I could smell the revulsion on you,” Derek explained. “I wasn’t going to let _him_ force something either.”

“I…”

It was official. For the first time in his life, Stiles was actually speechless. This man, this _werewolf_ apparently, if his words were any indication, was a better person than Adrian Harris could ever hope to be.

“Thank you,” he settled on. It wasn’t enough to convey the depths of his gratitude, but it was something.

“You don’t have to thank me for being a decent person.”

Stiles let a few minutes pass in silence as he covered himself with Derek’s blanket, not wanting to aggravate the man who’d saved him from Harris’ clutches. At least, for now.

“Hey, are you awake?” he asked finally.

“Yeah,” Derek answered, he wouldn’t be able to sleep until Stiles heart stopped beating so frantically.

It ticked up another notch just before he started speaking again.

“Do you think you could lay with me up here?” Stiles asked nervously, looking down on the Commander.

Derek turned his eyes to Stiles and saw the boy biting his bottom lip but before Derek could ask questions, Stiles barreled on.

“It’s just, Harris has a werewolf minion and if I don’t at least smell like you, he’ll know and I’ll get punished for not doing my job.”

Derek studied Stiles again before speaking.

“I got the impression that if you _did_ smell like me, you’d get punished worse.”

Stiles smirked. “Worth it for Harris to think someone else got there first.”

Derek’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline as he rose from the floor to sit on the edge of the cot. “Got there first?”

“Shit,” Stiles muttered, grin falling from his face as he realized what he had said. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

“No, Stiles,” Derek tried to push. “Was he about to…”

“I said forget it,” Stiles snapped. He squeezed his eyes shut in regret immediately, remembering that he was not only speaking to someone who’d helped him, but an officer as well. “I’m sorry. But, please, just drop it.”

Stiles tried to turn his back to Derek but the Commander wouldn’t let him, leaning over the boy and holding his chin so that he couldn’t look away.

“Hey, I’m not going to let him touch you, okay?”

Stiles face was immediately closed off, none of the light in his eyes that Derek had seen only moments ago.

“If it’s not him, it’ll just be someone else.”

Derek remained quiet as he laid down next to Stiles on the too small bed, wrapping the boy in his arms both in a bid to make more room and also to cover the boy in his scent.

Stiles drifted off in the Commander’s strong, capable arms. He thought he heard a mutter of “not if I can help it” against his hair, but he was too far under to be sure it wasn’t a dream.

 


	2. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is unbetaed. All mistakes are mine (and there a probably a few), if you see something let me know. :)

Bullets rained down on Derek and his pack. A bomb went off somewhere behind him. Ducking his head further, trying to crawl as flat against the ground as he could get, he struggled on. Erica at his left, Isaac to his right. All three of them were wounded, wolfsbane pumping its way through their blood. They’d likely be dead before the night was over, but they weren’t going to go quietly. They’d take as many of the opposing force down as they could before they laid down arms themselves.

“Derek,” Erica muttered through clenched teeth. “Is that…?”

Derek followed her gaze and saw a body up ahead of them. No, _please_. Don’t let it be Boyd.

“It’s Boyd,” Isaac said what they were all thinking. He said it defeated, the tone of his voice a clear indication that maybe he was more ready to give in than Derek thought.

“We don’t know that yet,” Derek argued, not willing to believe it until he had undeniable proof.

They rushed forward, toward their packmate, caring less for their own safety and more for that of their possibly fallen friend.

“No,” Derek whimpered when they got to him. He hadn’t been wounded in battle like the rest of them. He was captured, Derek knew, because there were obvious signs of torture. This was all Derek’s fault. It was all his fault because he was the reason that Boyd wasn’t with the rest of the pack. “ _No_.”

“ _Derek_.”

“Derek, wake up,” Stiles was saying as Derek opened his eyes and sat up stiffly, taking in his surroundings. It took him a minute to figure out where he was. “It was just a dream. Whatever you saw, it was just a dream.”

Stiles hands were firm on his shoulders and there was sympathy in his eyes. It was a rare few that didn’t have something that twisted into nightmares when they slept these days.

“It wasn’t,” Derek confessed, lying back down and tugging Stiles with him. “It was a memory.”

Stiles laid quietly at his side for a minute and Derek almost thought Stiles had fallen asleep again.

“I’m sorry. Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?” Stiles asked shyly. Derek didn’t think there were many things Stiles was shy about but maybe Stiles had some war stories of his own. Maybe he was afraid of Derek asking about them in return if they started sharing their pasts with each other.

“No,” Derek answered, but it felt too abrupt, like he was being harsh with Stiles when he’d had no intention to be. “Thank you,” he added, to soften the refusal.

“Okay,” Stiles agreed easily, and Derek could smell the relief wash over him in a giant wave.

“Could I...” Derek hesitated, he didn’t want to make Stiles uncomfortable, especially after what he’d just gone through with Harris earlier. He was lying here, naked, in Derek’s bed and the last thing Derek wanted was to make him feel like he was using him. It was obvious that Stiles hadn’t signed up for this gig.

“Could you…?” Stiles repeated, looking at Derek expectantly. He’d expected Stiles to automatically jump to the thought that Derek would want to use him, that he’d look at Derek with accusation when Derek started his request, but he just looked like he was waiting for Derek to finish it. So, maybe they’d built up some kind of trust already. Derek was reluctant to ruin it.

“Nevermind,” Derek said instead of asking for what he really needed.

Stiles sighed in frustration. “Dude, just tell me what you want.”

Derek mirrored Stiles’ sigh, rubbing a hand down over his face. “Werewolves tend to be tactile with their pack, especially when they’re stressed. It helps us, calms us down. But my pack isn’t here.”

He didn’t mention that he didn’t even know if he _had_ a pack anymore. He’d gotten separated from Erica and Isaac not long after finding Boyd’s body. If they were alive and he were close to them, he’d feel them. He’d know. But the pack bond doesn’t work very well over the spaces between planets.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek’s spontaneous explanation and hoped the wolf could see it in the dark. He figured that he could but he hadn’t really befriended any of the weres on Harris’ payroll, so he’d had no one to ask before. “So, what? You wanna hug it out?”

Derek wasn’t looking at him, his eyes trained on the roof of the tent but he looked like he was seriously questioning the choices that brought him to be here with Stiles just now. “Forget it.”

“Dude, I’m not being facetious. If that’s what you need, we can totally hug it out,” Stiles said holding his arms aloft, waiting for Derek to either push into the space between them or push him away.

Derek studied him to make sure that he was serious but Stiles’ heartbeat remained calm, steady, and he didn’t smell like fear or revulsion. So, he accepted Stiles’ offer and tugged the boy closer, holding as tightly as he dared without hurting the human.

“Hands stay above the waist there, Wolfy,” Stiles said in a joking manner but Derek knew better than to believe it was actually a joke.

“Don’t call me wolfy. I outrank you,” Derek reminded him, also making it sound like a joke. If any of Stiles’ superior officers heard him calling Derek nicknames rather than using his official title, Stiles was going to be punished whether Derek took offense or not.

“Yeah, but you’re an outlander. Your authority here doesn’t reach very far,” Stiles retorted into the side of Derek’s neck. Derek tried not to think about what that was doing to him. Or how much trouble he just knew Stiles was going to get them _both_ into.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Go to sleep.”

And for once, Stiles had an order that he didn’t mind following.

 

*

 

It shouldn’t hurt so much, waking up to a warm body wrapped around him. It definitely shouldn’t hurt more than wrenching awake after a nightmare about the deaths of his pack. Eyes gently fluttering open to find Stiles exactly where he was when Derek had finally drifted off to sleep, it was nice. But it was a reminder of what Derek would never have. He wasn’t allowed to keep nice things. Something always came along to destroy them. And Stiles was far too beautiful to allow someone to destroy.

Derek took a deep breath and gently untangled himself from Stiles. He re-covered the naked boy and moved to sit on a crate on the other side of the tent. He needed to keep himself from thinking about the boy. He couldn’t let himself become attached. He’d protect Stiles from Harris, and anyone else who tried to steal his virtue without his consent, but Derek couldn’t get close. He worried that he may already be too fond of the boy.

He stuck his head out of his tent to find a young Private First Class standing guard outside, his rank just high enough that he would mostly be spared the duties of the lower ranking Privates. Derek asked for him to get a uniform sent to the tent for Stiles. The boy would need something to wear when he woke up.

Derek retreated back into the tent, a nervous energy running rampant through his limbs. If he were in his own territory, he’d go for a run around the camp. Maybe get in a little target practice. _Something_ to quell the need to move, to push at the walls surrounding him.

When the PFC announces himself and ducks in with Stiles’ uniform in hand, Derek takes it and dismisses him. He doesn’t go though, shuffling in the same spot for a moment like he’s uncomfortable in Derek’s presence.

“What?” Derek asks bluntly, brow raised in question.

“Lieutenant Colonel Argent wishes your presence in the Tactical Operations Tent.”

“Fine, I’ll be there soon.”

Once again, the PFC ignores the dismissal, staying put and boosting Derek’s annoyance level up another notch.

“Yes?” Derek doesn’t bother to hide the annoyance in his tone.

“I apologize, Commander,” the PFC says bowing his head in repentance. “It’s just, I believe he begs your urgency.”

“Then, I’ll _hurry_ and be there soon. Thank you, Private First Class Decker.”

Decker bows once more and exits the tent as Derek moves to wake Stiles and order the boy to get dressed. He’s not going to chance letting Stiles out of his sight.

If LTC Argent has a problem with that, he’ll just have to get over it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> tbc...


End file.
